


the best gift he's gotten that year

by KLTurner



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: !!!!!, Christmas, Fluff, HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE, Hanukkah, M/M, Stenbrough, bill centric, btw georgie is dead but this time it won't make you too sad, have some water please, i love all the losers, i love them, i love!!! my sons!!!!!!!!!, if its late - go to sleep, just a small holiday thing for yall, obviously, ok ok im shutting up, other losers - mentioned, smoking is bad for you but i'm not tagging it, stan and bill are adorable and shy, wrap up in a blanket and have some tea while reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13144656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLTurner/pseuds/KLTurner
Summary: Bill is at home sick again and has to miss the club's holiday party. He isn't quite ready for it anyway, as he has one last present to finish.





	the best gift he's gotten that year

This isn’t going to be a sad story. It’s holiday season after all. It did start off as a kind of sad story for Bill Denbrough though. He was sick again and his mother made him stay at home, while his friends, the so called “losers club”, were having a winter holiday party. There was also a school dance happening that night, but Bill doubted anyone would really be interested. Loverboy Ben maybe, but Bev said she wasn’t going, so the only one of them who would be there was probably Richie. Bill knew the guy was dying to show off his sick moves.

Their own special winter party was far sadder to miss though. Bill’s heart was sinking with bitterness at the thought of everyone already being at Mike’s place by that time. His room would be spacey but cozy as always, decorated for Christmas since November 1st probably, because that’s just the kind of person Mike was. Eddie must’ve brought his mom’s special ginger cookies (the only thing his mom ever did right), Rich probably grabbed a carton of soy milk for lactose intolerant Beverly. And the rest must’ve brought something too, just like the last year. Their winter holiday party (originally Christmas party, renamed by Richie who said it’s unfair to Stan, and had a point) was something they were supposed to arrange all together. Bill was feeling low, even though he already gave most of his presents to his friends. He still felt like he could contribute something to their holiday night, especially since he knew it would be less fun for his friends without him.

The only thing that made the cold lonely night not suck so much was the fact that he wasn’t quite ready for the party anyway. Bill had one more present to give: a book full of pretty bird paintings he came across in a local antique store, and a poem. Bill was never one to write poetry, and he wasn’t even too proud of his regular writing. But this time was different. He even asked Ben for help because this time it really meant a lot. It was a gift for his closest friend, Stan Uris.

The two boys started growing closer a few months ago, since Eddie hung out with Richie more now, and Bev preferred those boys' company when it came to small outings rather then the club hanging together. It felt kind of sad at first, but Bill was trying to look for positive aspects more. Bevvie was much too talkative, loud and bold for him anyway, though it wasn’t a bad thing and she was fun to occasionally go on adventures with. Stan, as opposed to her, was rather reserved in general and pretty straight-forward when it came to conversations. Spending time with him was interesting in a calm sort of way: they went bird-watching together (Bill liked seeing the concentration and subtle excitement on the boy’s face) and doing homework together didn’t even feel like work. Bill really liked his unique sense of humor, his neat style and good manners, enjoyed their late night conversations about literature, time, space or future when one of them stayed over at the other’s place. Stanley was Bill’s favorite person in the world, and he could even compare his feelings to the ones he had for Beverly last year, but couldn’t bring himself to. It was different, far too special.

Some David Bowie record was playing softly in the background of his stuffy room, as Bill sat up on his bed in his old faded shirt, leaning over his notebook, deep in thought. He was chewing on his pencil, though he would really go for a smoke right now, but outside was too cold to even open the window and smoking in the room would let his parents know, so he had to go without it for now. Finally, the last line of the poem managed to arrange itself in the boy’s mind, so he scribbled it down and got out of bed heavily. His trusty old typewriter sat on his desk patiently, so the boy set up some clean paper and started carefully typing out his poem.

 

_Talking about space,_

_Your voice is soft like clouds._

_You taught my heart_

_How to fly._

_Bluebird feathers lie_

_In your tender touch._

_Please don’t say goodbye._

Bill knew it was too short, cheesy and borderline romantic. Romance coded, as Mike would say. But even though Bill did feel embarrassed about the whole deal, he knew that Stan would never make fun of him. Stan was probably the most trustworthy person in the club when it came to personal feelings and other usually secret things. After all, these were his true feelings, and he was ready as ever to let the boy know about them.

The typing job was finished, and Bill set the paper aside to let the ink dry. He was going to give his present to Stan the next day, so he put the book in a neat blue paper bag in advance. He felt a bit stupid about this because the Hanukkah was already over, but he wanted to make his gift perfect and was content with how it turned out. He knew Stan was going to like it and felt thrilled thinking about how the boy’s usually serious face was going to light up. Bill smiled unconsciously at the thought and turned to check if the poem has already dried. A moment later he heard a knock on the door.

“Mom? Is th-that you?”

He panicked a little, setting the bag near his bed and putting the poem a bit further aside.

“Yeah, dear son.”

Bill smiled widely and stood up from his desk chair as he saw Stanley’s head poking from his doorway. The boy was wearing a mildly tacky Hanukkah sweater Bill knew he got from Richie. “Brought you some stuff from the party, your mom let me in.”

Stan closed the door behind him a bit awkwardly and held a large bag out for Bill to take. He did, sitting down on his bed and patting a place beside him, inviting his friend to sit down too. Inside the bag there was a smaller paper one full of Eddie’s cookies, a couple cupcakes he knew Mike would bake, a plastic bag with lollipops and other hard candy (probably from Richie, “the diabetes fairy” as he called himself) and some chocolate Ben always brought to every event. There was also an apple cinnamon muffin – the only thing Bev could ever bake right. He almost felt tears in his eyes, before looking up at Stan and catching his stare. His friend urged him to check the bag again with a nod and a curious look in his eyes. Bill reached to the bottom of it and dug out a rather small, neatly wrapped box. The tag read “For Bill”. His face lit up as he looked back up at Stan, smiling uncontrollably.

“You mind if I o-open it?” Bill asked, and the boy nodded, a soft smile on his face too.

“Go for it.”

The dark green paper was carefully unwrapped within a minute, and the next moment Bill was holding a brand new set of watercolors in his hands. There was also a Princess Leia Star Wars card (Stan knew she was his favorite, and Bill already had the rest of the cards) and the newest The Smiths cassette.

‘Oh god, Stan,” Bill managed, his voice trembling but not with stutter this time. He was ready to cry or say he loves him that very moment. “This is h-hands down the best gift I g-got this year.”

“Don’t thank me too much,” Stan’s voice creaked a bit too. Maybe it was a ghost of upcoming puberty, maybe not, Bill wasn’t sure. The boy turned away a bit. “I just remember you said something about wanting to try painting but the necessities being… Unavailable.”

He was referring to the fact that the only painting set in the house belonged to Georgie, Bill’s little brother who was now to stay little forever with the angels in little boys' heaven since last summer. Which obviously made it unavailable, especially to Bill. They avoided this topic usually, but sometimes Stan could still catch his friend crying alone in the Barrens. This was not the time for that sorrow though, so Stan looked him in the eyes and said:  
  
“So yeah, now you can try it anytime. Richie helped me with the rest though, so you can thank him as well.” They both smiled at that, Bill still holding the box tight in his hands. He snapped out of his trance though after a moment, remembering the blue paper bag.

“I got you s-something too!” He said, reaching for it and handing it to Stan. “It’s not the whole thing th-though.”

Stanley watched Bill stand up and go to his desk, picking up a piece of paper and bringing it carefully back to the bed. Then he turned back to the bag he was holding and pulled out the book. Bill watched his best friend’s face brighten up, just the way he hoped, and grinned widely too.

“Whoa. I heard about this book, it’s actually pretty rare…” The boy looked up in awe. “Bill, this is an amazing gift. Thank you.”

“I know Hanukkah is o-over already, but I couldn’t give it to you just yet.”

Stan giggled and shook his head at that, his curly hair accidentally getting in his face, and Bill fought an urge to smoothe it off with his fingers. He gave Stan the poem, suddenly shy, his hand shaking a bit.

“I k-kind of spent a lot of t-t-time on this, so I h-hope you like it. B-but if you don’t, p-p-please don’t tell the others, ok-kay? It’s kind of p-p-personal…” Bill knew he was rambling now, his face felt hotter than before and his hands kept fidgeting with his mildly greasy hair. The boy sat down awkwardly but kept looking up at Stan’s face trying to figure out what he thought.

Stanley put the paper down slowly, staring down at it and obviously re-reading over and over. Bill was about to die of tension, and he almost got a heart attack when his friend looked up at him suddenly. Stan sighed and shook his head again softly, as if he was arguing with his own thoughts. He then looked Bill straight in the eye and quietly asked:

“Look, this is going to be risky, but can I try something?”

Bill was deeply confused, but nodded, looking at the boy scooting a bit closer and carefully setting the paper into the bag. Leaning up a bit, he moved his hand to hold Bill’s face softly, while Denbrough’s heartbeat went crazy and his mind completely blank, causing him to lose any track of what’s going on. He blinked slowly, leaning closer to Stan, and the next second he swore, he could feel his mind shift almost directly upside down. Then he felt all of his thoughts and feelings snap into place, as he felt Stan’s lips pressing softly to his own and the emotions hit him so hard he felt tears in his eyes. His shaking hands went to hold the back of Stan’s neck, his impossibly soft curls brushing Bill fingers, as he kissed the boy back.

They parted after a couple seconds, and Bill choked out a small sob as he faintly heard Stan talk about how he was going to get sick too after this, and how this was the best poem he has ever read even though he mostly hated poetry and he was probably asking why Bill was crying. The reason was, the realization hit him hard, and on that moment Bill knew that he was finally in the right place in his life. He just knew he was, his feelings for his friend finally clear. He was still kind of cupping Stan’s face in his hands, so he sobbed again and looked him in the eye.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Stan smiled and wiped the boy’s damp cheeks with the back of his hand.

“That’s kind of bold of you to say.” He remarked, then laughed softly at the other’s confused look. “I think… I can say the same about myself. Definitely.”

Bill sniffed and laughed shakily at that, unable to look away from his lover’s face. Yeah, he could definitely call him his lover now. Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough’s lover. What a time to be alive, he thought. “Starman” was playing in the background, the forgotten record still running. And as they kissed shyly again, boy, was Bill seeing stars.


End file.
